


Intimacy's too close a word.

by kbokbok



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Really Grey-Ace, but can't find that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbokbok/pseuds/kbokbok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a close call, they just need time to readjust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimacy's too close a word.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in under two hours and I'm publishing before I chicken out! Would really love feedback.  
> And I know they spell it Raphael, but Rafael makes more sense with a Spanish-speaking, Catholic background.

The condensation on the glass casts the streetlights in more natural colors. The clock is ticking towards dawn, but there’s a long delay between the first beams of light over the horizon and any real sunshine finding its way into the his alley window. Rafael is being stupid, but he’s not that stupid. 

No one was lost. That's damned important. But Seamus’s arm is too soon to tell, whether it will fall to ash or reattach. Beyond his usefulness to the clan as a heavy-hitter, Seamus is such an old, steady vampire: the first voice of reason when tempers run hot, the tones of his condescension too fond to take issue with. 

He hadn’t been able to keep his fangs in. Genevieve and Ernesto had to hold him still so that Rafael could strap his arm back in place. He had to yank hard on the bond to get Seamus calm enough to be carried back to DuMort. Then he was obliged to go back to powwow with the Lightwoods and Simon’s hunter, all for them to all but wave him off once they’d asked their questions.

Simon hadn’t been there, already gone back to distract Seamus into a calmer state. If one thing was true of Rafi’s baby, it was that his very nature was distracting.

[Rafael’s, not Camille’s. Some nights (tonight, most of last week, the Thursday before) he didn’t even like letting the clan have a claim on Simon that superseded his own. And he’s been told more than once that Simon will decide his relationship with his hunter, his family, even the other hunters. But Rafael will pull rank where he can, and he’ll stake that arrogant snake through the heart before he sees her hands on his baby.]

It’s almost morning and most of the clan is back in DuMort. Claudia is still out, but she should be fine, had to be fine, just out to New Jersey to see her girl, the Mundane that’s like a daughter. She knows to be careful getting back into the city. She’s conscientious, unlike Simon. 

Perhaps even unlike Rafael, because there’s Simon at the door to his study. The baby’s gotten better at walking softly, but not that much better.

“Hey,” Simon croaks, then he’s flitter-quick just behind him. He’s been talking too much for too long. “Cleo’s back, no trouble. Bert and Ernie are watching Seamus. He’s doing better.” There’s his hand cradling Rafael’s elbow, careful and light. “Everybody’s in, Rafi. We kept everyone.” The grip’s firmer, and Rafael notices for the first time how hard his hands are clasped in front of him. It takes conscious effort to let his arms fall to his sides.

And then Simon’s in front of him, his arms tight bars at his lower back, pressed cheek to cheek.

Rafael doesn’t have a frame of reference for Simon. To most, it seems to him, embracing someone they’re attracted to is treated as sexual by default. Vampires tend to be very sensual beings, by culture and by inclination, but he’s never seen the draw to sex. Fresh, nuanced blood, expensive textiles, good music, and even beautiful works of art all had their draw for him, but even before he’d been turned he’d never specifically felt the urge to have sex with someone. But his skin used to itch and crawl for—something. 

Contact, pathetically enough.

He knows, at this point, that Simon’s embraces don’t really have ulterior motives. Not to say that Simon’s never looking for more than a kiss, but he says it outright, now, after the time when he didn’t for almost half an hour and Rafael kicked him out of his own room. They talked, after that, and maybe Rafi didn’t like some of the ways his baby phrased things (No, he wasn’t anxious about “sexually-ambiguous cuddles,” it was just a pain when he had to think about interpreting some pretty vague clues when he just wanted to enjoy his damn down time.), but they’d gotten better at…being close. The clan leader doesn’t like to acknowledge how much it meant that Simon didn’t get pissy whenever he said no, even if he purposefully did it for a month to see how long his baby would…anyways, after that Rafi stopped making him leave on nights he turned him down, since Simon still seems to get something out of being close even when he isn’t getting what he really wants.

Not that Rafi never wants. It can be fun, if he’s in the right mood. And it’s getting so easy just to be with his baby, to trust that he’ll either say what he wants or make it perfectly clear. 

It’s fine. It’s great, even.

So Rafael sighs out a breath he doesn’t need and didn’t know he had, and drapes his arms around his baby’s neck. He tips his head so he can feel the drag of stubble on his cheek. Even now, distracted by clan matters, there’s a moment when he has to let himself trust that Simon’s not going to slide his hands down, grab his ass and suddenly shift gears on him. 

And it’s like Simon can sense when that moment passes, because he starts firmly scratching his back through his shirt, slow up and down his spine and out to his shoulders, back in, then out again, then simply stroking with his palms. It takes a long time.

“C’mon, chapter president, I can feel the back of my neck prickling.” Simon scrubs his hand briefly over the short hairs by his nape. “It’s time for all the good little creatures of the night to go to bed.” Simon pulls back far enough to peck his lips, which are already pulled in a scowl.

“Watch it, idiota.” Rafael brings his arms down, catching a grip on Simon’s ears that makes him squawk. He twists the captive head to and fro for inspection, then knuckles his chin to the side as he lets go, turning. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, bébé. The only thing you’ve got going for you.” He can’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Pshaw!” Simon sputters, half-laughing. He can hear him drawing the curtain in his office. “What would you do without your liaison? This whole place would stutter to a halt without the comedic stylings of Simon Lewis! Where would you go for your up-to-date vampire misinformation?” And on he goes, jabbering on at his elbow without a care in the world.

In bed, Rafi rests his hand on Simon’s belly, who makes him snort by pretending to breathe. But even without a heartbeat, without much native warmth, he can feel Simon there, not a pile of dust. He stays up, for a long time, wondering at the trust he puts in his baby. He trusts him in his bed, with his neck, while he’s asleep, with his truths. But Rafael cannot trust Simon to guard his own existence. He wonders, for a long time, at the vulnerable place he is putting his heart.

Everybody’s in. We kept everyone.

This time.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, I'm identifying Rafael as grey-ace, though he doesn't know the terminology (though Simon tries) and wouldn't care to learn, just wants to navigate by himself. Simon's trying to be good about it, but he's not the most experienced and Rafi would rather banish him from his presence as a means of course-correction rather than talk it out and be vulnerable.
> 
> I tried to keep Rafael as in-character as I could--he's still very much in charge, but there's a lot of vulnerability in intimacy.
> 
> Edit: Some typos, also Cleo is Simon's nickname for Claudia, if that wasn't clear. Similarly, Ernesto is Ernie, though Bert is some other vamp.


End file.
